pray to God it may!--It will kindle in an instant--lack of fuel,
and the confusion of the family."

"Ay, like enow, like enow," said Ditchley; "but I winna budge till I
see it blazing."

"Why then, there a-goes!" said Lance. "Thank thee, Cis--thank thee, my
good wench.--Believe your own eyes, my lads, if you will not believe
me; and now hurra for Peveril of the Peak--the King and his friends--
and down with Rumps and Roundheads!"

The sudden rekindling of the beacon had all the effect which Lance
could have desired upon the minds of his rude and ignorant hearers,
who, in their superstitious humour, had strongly associated the Polar-
star of Peveril with the fortunes of the family. Once moved, according
to the national character of their countrymen, they soon became
enthusiastic; and Lance found himself at the head of thirty stout
fellows and upwards, armed with their pick-axes, and ready to execute
whatever task he should impose on them.

Trusting to enter the Castle by the postern, which had served to
accommodate himself and other domestics upon an emergency, his only
anxiety was to keep his march silent; and he earnestly recommended to
his followers to reserve their shouts for the moment of the attack.
They had not advanced far on their road to the Castle, when Cisly
Sellok met them so breathless with haste, that the poor girl was
obliged to throw herself into Master Lance's arms.

"Stand up, my mettled wench," said he, giving her a sly kiss at the
same time, "and let us know what is going on up at the Castle."

"My lady bids you, as you would serve God and your master, not to come
up to the Castle, which can but make bloodshed; for she says Sir
Geoffrey is lawfully in hand, and that he must bide the issue; and
that he is innocent of what he is charged with, and is going up to
speak for himself before King and Council, and she goes up with him.
And besides, they have found out the postern, the Roundhead rogues;
for two of them saw me when I went out of door, and chased me; but I
showed them a fair pair of heels."

"As ever dashed dew from the cowslip," said Lance. "But what the foul
fiend is to be done? for if they have secured the postern, I know not
how the dickens we can get in."

"All is fastened with bolt and staple, and guarded with gun and
pistol, at the Castle," quoth Cisly; "and so sharp are they, that they
nigh caught me coming with my lady's message, as I told you. But my
lady says, if you could deliver her son, Master Julian, from
Bridgenorth, that she would hold it good service."

"What!" said Lance, "is young master at the Castle? I taught him to
shoot his first shaft. But how to get in!"

"He was at the Castle in the midst of the ruffle, but old Bridgenorth
has carried him down prisoner to the hall," answered Cisly. "There was
never faith nor courtesy in an old Puritan who never had pipe and
tabor in his house since it was built."

"Or who stopped a promising mine," said Ditchley, "to save a few
thousand pounds, when he might have made himself as rich as Lord of
Chatsworth, and fed a hundred good fellows all the whilst."

"Why, then," said Lance, "since you are all of a mind, we will go draw
the cover for the old badger; and I promise you that the Hall is not
like one of your real houses of quality where the walls are as thick
as whinstone-dikes, but foolish brick-work, that your pick-axes will
work through as if it were cheese. Huzza once more for Peveril of the
Peak! down with Bridgenorth, and all upstart cuckoldly Roundheads!"

Having indulged the throats of his followers with one buxom huzza,
Lance commanded them to cease their clamours, and proceeded to conduct
them, by such paths as seemed the least likely to be watched, to the
courtyard of Moultrassie Hall. On the road they were joined by several
stout yeoman farmers, either followers of the Peveril family, or
friends to the High Church and Cavalier party; most of whom, alarmed
by the news which began to fly fast through the neighbourhood, were
armed with sword and pistol.

Lance Outram halted his party, at the distance, as he himself
described it, of a flight-shot from the house, and advanced, alone,
and in silence, to reconnoitre; and having previously commanded
Ditchley and his subterranean allies to come to his assistance
whenever he should whistle, he crept cautiously forward, and soon
found that those whom he came to surprise, true to the discipline
which had gained their party such decided superiority during the Civil
War, had posted a sentinel, who paced through the courtyard, piously
chanting a psalm-tune, while his arms, crossed on his bosom, supported
a gun of formidable length.

"Now, a true solder," said Lance Outram to himself, "would put a stop
to thy snivelling ditty, by making a broad arrow quiver in your heart,
and no great alarm given. But, dang it, I have not the right spirit
for a soldier--I cannot fight a man till my blood's up; and for
shooting him from behind a wall it is cruelly like to stalking a deer.
I'll e'en face him, and try what to make of him."

With this doughty resolution, and taking no farther care to conceal
himself, he entered the courtyard boldly, and was making forward to
the front door of the hall, as a matter of course. But the old
Cromwellian, who was on guard, had not so learned his duty. "Who goes
there?--Stand, friend--stand; or, verily, I will shoot thee to death!"
were challenges which followed each other quick, the last being
enforced by the levelling and presenting the said long-barrelled gun
with which he was armed.

"Why, what a murrain!" answered Lance. "Is it your fashion to go a-
shooting at this time o' night? Why, this is but a time for bat-
fowling."

"Nay, but hark thee, friend," said the experienced sentinel, "I am
none of those who do this work negligently. Thou canst not snare me
with thy crafty speech, though thou wouldst make it to sound simple in
mine ear. Of a verity I will shoot, unless thou tell thy name and
business."

"Name!" said Lance; "why, what a dickens should it be but Robin
Round--honest Robin of Redham; and for business, an you must needs
know, I come on a message from some Parliament man, up yonder at the
Castle, with letters for worshipful Master Bridgenorth of Moultrassie
Hall; and this be the place, as I think; though why ye be marching up
and down at his door, like the sign of a Red Man, with your old
firelock there, I cannot so well guess."

"Give me the letters, my friend," said the sentinel, to whom this
explanation seemed very natural and probable, "and I will cause them
forthwith to be delivered into his worship's own hand."

Rummaging in his pockets, as if to pull out the letters which never
existed, Master Lance approached within the sentinel's piece, and,
before he was aware, suddenly seized him by the collar, whistled sharp
and shrill, and exerting his skill as a wrestler, for which he had
been distinguished in his youth, he stretched his antagonist on his
back--the musket for which they struggled going off in the fall.

The miners rushed into the courtyard at Lance's signal; and hopeless
any longer of prosecuting his design in silence, Lance commanded two
of them to secure the prisoner, and the rest to cheer loudly, and
attack the door of the house. Instantly the courtyard of the mansion
rang with the cry of "Peveril of the Peak for ever!" with all the
abuse which the Royalists had invented to cast upon the Roundheads,
during so many years of contention; and at the same time, while some
assailed the door with their mining implements, others directed their
attack against the angle, where a kind of porch joined to the main
front of the building; and there, in some degree protected by the
projection of the wall, and of a balcony which overhung the porch,
wrought in more security, as well as with more effect, than the
others; for the doors being of oak, thickly studded with nails,
offered a more effectual resistance to violence than the brick-work.

The noise of this hubbub on the outside, soon excited wild alarm and
tumult within. Lights flew from window to window, and voices were
heard demanding the cause of the attack; to which the party cries of
those who were in the courtyard afforded a sufficient, or at least the
only answer, which was vouchsafed. At length the window of a
projecting staircase opened, and the voice of Bridgenorth himself
demanded authoritatively what the tumult meant, and commanded the
rioters to desist, upon their own proper and immediate peril.

"We want our young master, you canting old thief," was the reply; "and
if we have him not instantly, the topmost stone of your house shall
lie as low as the foundation."

"We shall try that presently," said Bridgenorth; "for if there is
another blow struck against the walls of my peaceful house, I will
fire my carabine among you, and your blood be upon your own head. I
have a score of friends, well armed with musket and pistol, to defend
my house; and we have both the means and heart, with Heaven's
assistance, to repay any violence you can offer."

"Master Bridgenorth," replied Lance, who, though no soldier, was
sportsman enough to comprehend the advantage which those under cover,
and using firearms, must necessarily have over his party, exposed to
their aim, in a great measure, and without means of answering their
fire,--"Master Bridgenorth, let us crave parley with you, and fair
conditions. We desire to do you no evil, but will have back our young
master; it is enough that you have got our old one and his lady. It is
foul chasing to kill hart, hind, and fawn; and we will give you some
light on the subject in an instant."

This speech was followed by a great crash amongst the lower windows of
the house, according to a new species of attack which had been
suggested by some of the assailants.

"I would take the honest fellow's word, and let young Peveril go,"
said one of the garrison, who, carelessly yawning, approached on the
inside of the post at which Bridgenorth had stationed himself.

"Are you mad?" said Bridgenorth; "or do you think me poor enough in
spirit to give up the advantages I now possess over the family of
Peveril, for the awe of a parcel of boors, whom the first discharge
will scatter like chaff before the whirlwind?"

"Nay," answered the speaker, who was the same individual that had
struck Julian by his resemblance to the man who called himself
Ganlesse, "I love a dire revenge, but we shall buy it somewhat too
dear if these rascals set the house on fire, as they are like to do,
while you are parleying from the window. They have thrown torches or
firebrands into the hall; and it is all our friends can do to keep the
flame from catching the wainscoting, which is old and dry."

"Now, may Heaven judge thee for thy lightness of spirit," answered
Bridgenorth; "one would think mischief was so properly thy element,
that to thee it was indifferent whether friend or foe was the
sufferer."

So saying, he ran hastily downstairs towards the hall, into which,
through broken casements, and betwixt the iron bars, which prevented
human entrance, the assailants had thrust lighted straw, sufficient to
excite much smoke and some fire, and to throw the defenders of the
house into great confusion; insomuch, that of several shots fired
hastily from the windows, little or no damage followed to the
besiegers, who, getting warm on the onset, answered the hostile
charges with loud shouts of "Peveril for ever!" and had already made a
practicable breach through the brick-wall of the tenement, through
which Lance, Ditchley, and several of the most adventurous among their
followers, made their way into the hall.

The complete capture of the house remained, however, as far off as
ever. The defenders mixed with much coolness and skill that solemn and
deep spirit of enthusiasm which sets life at less than nothing, in
comparison to real or supposed duty. From the half-open doors which
led into the hall, they maintained a fire which began to grow fatal.
One miner was shot dead; three or four were wounded; and Lance scarce
knew whether he should draw his forces from the house, and leave it a
prey to the flames, or, making a desperate attack on the posts
occupied by the defenders, try to obtain unmolested possession of the
place. At this moment, his course of conduct was determined by an
unexpected occurrence, of which it is necessary to trace the cause.

Julian Peveril had been, like other inhabitants of Moultrassie Hall on
that momentous night, awakened by the report of the sentinel's musket,
followed by the shouts of his father's vassals and followers; of which
he collected enough to guess that Bridgenorth's house was attacked
with a view to his liberation. Very doubtful of the issue of such an
attempt, dizzy with the slumber from which he had been so suddenly
awakened, and confounded with the rapid succession of events to which
he had been lately a witness, he speedily put on a part of his
clothes, and hastened to the window of his apartment. From this he
could see nothing to relieve his anxiety, for it looked towards a
quarter different from that on which the attack was made. He attempted
his door; it was locked on the outside; and his perplexity and anxiety
became extreme, when suddenly the lock was turned, and in an
underdress, hastily assumed in the moment of alarm, her hair streaming
on her shoulders, her eyes gleaming betwixt fear and resolution, Alice
Bridgenorth rushed into his apartment, and seized his hand with the
fervent exclamation, "Julian, save my father!"

The light which she bore in her hand served to show those features
which could rarely have been viewed by any one without emotion, but
which bore an expression irresistible to a lover.

"Alice," he said, "what means this? What is the danger? Where is your
father?"

"Do not stay to question," she answered; "but if you would save him,
follow me!"

At the same time she led the way, with great speed, half-way down the
turret stair case which led to his room, thence turning through a side
door, along a long gallery, to a larger and wider stair, at the bottom
of which stood her father, surrounded by four or five of his friends,
scarce discernible through the smoke of the fire which began to take
hold in the hall, as well as that which arose from the repeated
discharge of their own firearms.

Julian saw there was not a moment to be lost, if he meant to be a
successful mediator. He rushed through Bridgenorth's party ere they
were aware of his approach, and throwing himself amongst the
assailants who occupied the hall in considerable numbers, he assured
them of his personal safety, and conjured them to depart.

"Not without a few more slices at the Rump, master," answered Lance.
"I